


Behind The Masks

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Die and Kyo hide behind masks, never showing who they truly are to anyone but one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind The Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt[s]: 0021: Broken for prompt_rotation  
> Comments: I think... how broken fits it should be obvious, but ask if you still don't understand in the end.  
> Beta Readers: ventorus01, kawaiikyo, witheringwhite  
> Song[s]: "A Hundred Kisses" by She Wants Revenge

Die POV

There's something about him, just the way he holds himself when he's in front of everyone else that holds my attention. It's a mask... but one that has become so much of him that almost no one else can see what I do. I'm on the inside, allowed to see every part of the man I've come to call my lover. In a way, the mask he puts on is still honest and true, even without being either of the two. It's who he wants to be, who he strives to be each and every day, even while the man beneath it flounders and feels so very lost.

In truth, he's a lot like me. I suppose you could say I'm tender on the inside. I show the world my smiling face and let them see that I love life and that I'm nothing but full of joy. But as soon as the cameras and the world fades away, I need the alcohol to keep the mask in place. A crutch... a burden. Kyo hates me for it, and yet I still do it. Each night on a tour, I'll go and drink at least enough to feel like I can be the man I pretend to be. Kyo... he just hides away so he can be himself.

When it comes down to it, I don't think either of us are right in how we deal with it: hiding or drowning it in amber liquid. Both poor solutions, in truth. I guess it's better though, that the world not know the truth. How he aches to be more than he thinks he ever can be... how I ache to fit into a crowd I feel out-casted from. It makes no sense to some people, the way I feel. But Kyo... Kyo understands me just fine.

And tonight, I refuse to drown in alcohol. Tonight, I want to drown in him... in the one thing I can call the most honest, clear truth I have ever been a part of. Even as my feet trudge through the gravel, just paces behind him, my voice bidding the others goodnight, I can feel the tingle of awareness between us begin. He knows... he always knows.

There's proof of it when he passes his room, heading straight for mine, bags and all. Tonight, there's no need for the room the management booked, because he'll be in mine. Even when the morning sun breaks the horizon, he'll be in my arms. It's that thought that keeps the panic from me, that chokes away the remnants of my own self-hatred. With Kyo, I never feel unwanted. I never feel like I don't belong. With his arms around me, I feel like the world could end and I'd be okay with that... simply because it ended with him.

The door clicks open, the green light on the card reader seeming to understand us, to allow us to proceed with our unspoken plans. The snap of the latch catching behind us is maybe the last thing either of us hear beyond ourselves. It's the sound of a beginning... the sound of the outside world being shut out of our room, our world... our relationship. They don't need to know and we don't need them to.

My hands slip into blonde locks, holding him close as his strong, tattooed arms wind around me, his body pushing impossibly closer. He needs this as much as I do; to know that here, we both can belong, that we both fit so easily in one another's arms. Even as we stumble to the bed, I'm certain that nothing but the thoughts of one another cross our minds. Inside this precious cocoon, only love exists. It's an odd love, one made of nothing but trust and the most underlying and base of feelings... of lust. But to us, it is enough... it always has been. Here, we find our elation... our solace.

He moves against me, his body rocking urgently over mine. Even when I try to roll us onto our sides, he won't let me, pinning me with a show of his strength that is so rare to actually see when we're alone. Usually, I'm in control and he is passive, allowing of almost anything I could ever do. With the tables turned, I find myself just as willing to allow whatever it is that he wants from this. I trust him implicitly and I know he feels the same about me. There are no lines here.

Our fingers tear at one another, clothing hitting the floor with the softest of sounds, far overshadowed by our mutual sounds of pleasure. His hips rock against mine, his length brushing over my own and sticking my breath in my throat. The movement is almost urgent, needy... as if he's been waiting all day for this very moment. Even as my eyes close, I become achingly aware of the way his mouth moves along my neck, his fingers over my sides. I am but putty in his hands, despite the fact that my own wander his flesh with fervor so riled that he will think me impatient.

His breathing in my ear is labored, intense. His skin burns beneath my fingertips, flushed with the eagerness of his actions, tinged with the purity of the basest of needs. Before I can even comprehend that he's moved, he's straddling me, fingers holding the base of my length steady as he slowly impales himself on me. The cry that leaves his throat is only equaled by my own. The rapid flit of my pulse thrums in my ears, tugging like the bass lines from the concert just prior.

The hard press of his cock against my abdomen pulls me from my own haze of pleasure, cracking my eyes and forcing me to look up at his face as he begins to move over me. The rise and fall of his smaller body over mine shoots ecstasy straight through me, but what truly makes the moment is the look on his face. His eyes are so sincere, overflowing with a trust that cannot be rivaled. His every breath is for me... with me.

My own hips meet his halfway, setting us in a rhythm that is somewhere beyond eternal. Our bodies meld into one, moving to the beat of the very same drum. Even as my hand curls around his length, we do not falter. The sound of our breathing, the beautiful song of our bodies joining as one, fills the room, warming the air around us. His hands slide across my skin, his head tilting back as he moans deep, his hips picking up the pace and finding a new angle that he obviously enjoys far more than the one prior.

I know I'm on the verge, the sensations overwhelming, and yet, I do not even think twice about it. We have never failed to be one until the very last second and this will be no different in that respect. My eyes fall to his chest, watching the rise and fall, the crimson that still seeps from some of the self-inflicted wounds mixing with the sweat of this separate exertion. In that very moment, it hits me harder than the force of any orgasm, showing me the raw truth of our existence together. For him... I would die.

Almost as if he can read my thoughts, his eyes burn into me until I raise my own to meet his once again. The answer I find there is more than enough to throw me screaming over the edge. Even as I throb so deep inside him, his warmth fills my hand, overflowing onto my abdomen, I know something has changed.

Our breathing labored, we lay there, his smaller body collapsed on top of my own, his seemingly slighter frame clinging to my own. And when I wrap my arms around him, I understand everything. Every moment we've lived together has been nothing but building up to this one. We have found the purest of emotions... and the most barbed. Tonight... we have found the meaning of love.

**The End**  



End file.
